Page 50

In my bedroom, I turn on the light and walk over to close the blinds. When I look back, Vincent is shutting my bedroom door behind him.

My gaze drifts over his shoulder, and my lips twitch. “Did you hang up my dress?”

He draped it over the back of a chair and lined my heels neatly under the coat rack next to my now-closed front door. His coat occupies a hook beside my denim jacket.

When he doesn’t respond, my gaze returns to him, and my mouth goes dry as I track each shirt button that he slowly pops open.

“I wanted to take my time with you,” he says, serious. “Prove to you that I won’t hurt you again.”

I’m breathless as he shrugs off his shirt, leaves it where it falls, and stalks toward me.

“But what?” I whisper.

My eyes track over his pecs, rippling muscles, and fix on the dark line of hair that disappears under the waistband of his pants. I retreat slightly, though I’m not afraid.

“There’s been something I’ve wanted to do to you since I caught you crawling across my classroom floor.”

The backs of my thighs hits the edge of my bed and I tip.

But he’s there, strong hands grasping me by the tops of my arms and drawing me inexorably against him until my breasts mash against his chest.

The kiss on the clock tower was meant to ease a hurt. His and mine.

This is luxurious. I moan as Vincent smooths his hands up and down my back and tucks me tighter against his growing erection. He groans as I rise to my toes and rub myself against him, needing his pants gone.

My eyes flutter shut as he slides his palms down over my back. His lips skim my collarbone. My breasts. My belly.

“Vincent?” I blink my eyes open, burying my hands in his hair, the dark strands so much softer than I thought they would be.

He’s on his knees in front of me, his mouth a couple of inches from my pussy.

When I think of what he’s about to do to me, my heart races.

"Turn," he quietly commands, catching me off guard.

I stare down at him, confused. “What?”

“You heard me.” There’s a challenge in his gaze. A dare.

“Fine.” I go along with it, staring at the wall, confused, until he presses a soft kiss on the globe of my ass and I hiss, sucking in a breath when he gently bites down.

“Shit,” I gasp.

I never thought I’d like someone biting me on the ass, but who knew?

He clasps me by my hips, holding me steady. I can tell he’s smiling when he kisses me, soothing the bite. “Do you know what I happened to see when I looked up from my laptop?”

I start to respond when his fingers stroke along the crease of my ass and he pushes the thong aside and kisses me there. My breath catches, and my heart stops, tension thrumming through me.

“ This .” He kisses me again. “This perfect ass when you were crawling away from me. I thought I was in a dream.”

“You couldn’t have known it was me,” I whisper, curling my fingers into fists. My nails cut into my skin as anticipation licks at me. What is he going to do to me next?

I suck in a breath, gasping, moaning as his teeth nip tender flesh.

I want him to do that again. Need him to chase each sharp bite of pain with another of those sweet, lingering kisses.

“I knew.” He drags my thong down my legs, and I step out of it. “On the bed.”

I start to turn.

“No.” He stops me. “Like this.”

Hesitating for a second, I do what he wants, draping myself over the top of my pale purple comforter and fisting the sheets. I feel… exposed.

But not the good kind.

Vulnerable.

I keep thinking and thinking, and what I can’t get out of my mind are my scars. They don’t define me, but they are there. The lights are on, and Vincent is behind me. I don’t want him to think they’re ugly, and by extension, me.

His finger brushes a scar that once burned so much I couldn’t lie down. I squeeze my eyes shut, telling myself I don’t care if he thinks they're ugly.

“Do these still hurt?” His voice is soft.

I swallow, trying not to imagine the look on his face. He doesn’t sound disgusted by them, but he’s so good at hiding his feelings from me. “No, not anymore. Are they…”

Ugly? Horrible?

Something soft brushes my lower back. It almost feels like…

“Vincent?” I whisper.

His next kiss loosens the tight knot in my chest. And his voice, when he speaks, vibrates with rage. “I want to cut them in two for hurting you.”

I squeeze my eyes tightly shut, soaking the sheets with my tears as he kisses every inch of my scarred skin.

He’s half-lying on top of me when he stops, his lips against my ear, one hand cradling my hip. “Scars, no scars, wrinkles, bruises. I love you , Della Jackson. That will never change.”

I open my eyes, keeping my gaze fixed on my tear-stained sheets. I never thought I was romantic or emotional, but ever since three alphas entered my life, all I do is feel.

“Your eyes,” he says, voice gruff.

I turn my head to meet his gaze.

He kisses me. Soft. Sweet. Perfect. “And I will set this world on fire if anyone ever hurts you again.”

A tiny smile sneaks out. Relief. Happiness that he still views me the same way.

“That doesn’t seem like a math professor kind of thing to do.”

His lip twitches. “Doesn’t it?” He kisses me. “Turn over, Miss Jackson.”

And he growls it. Deliberately .

I feel the impact of that soft growl. His eyes flare with heat, and it’s clear he knows exactly what it does to me.

He rises, giving me space to turn around. I’m braless.

“Uh, when did that happen?”

Vincent doesn’t say a word. He licks his lips, eyes focused on my tits like a man starving.

Each breast gets equal attention. The edge of his teeth. Tongue. A nice long suck that lifts my back from the mattress as a moan tears from my throat.

Everything in me freezes as I watch him kiss a path down my body. I know what he’s going to do to me. Know precisely where he intends to put his mouth on me.

My hands sink into his hair. Not to stop him. To hold on. “Vincent…”

“Shh.” He nips the inside of my thigh, and I gasp, fingers tightening in his hair. He blows warm air over my exposed pussy, and it ripples in response.

He nudges my thighs farther apart, his tongue circling my clit as I stare down at him, breathing hard.

He slides two fingers inside me. I gasp, then moan as his tongue flicks my clit.

“ Oh …”

“Good?” His voice rumbles over me, sending electric shocks through me.

“Uh, huh.”

His fingers curl and pump. I whimper, then moan as his right hand slides up and palms my breast. His pace is slow and easy, his touch self-indulgent.

I work my hips to each slick slide of his fingers inside me as his tongue teases and taunts my clit.

The pressure builds.

Grows hotter. Sweat slicks my brow. My moans grow louder, competing with the wet sounds of his fingers in me.

I blow like a gasket. My thighs quiver, fingers clutch his hair, and my head tilts back. My scream fills the room.

He eases me down from my climax with soft caresses and sweet kisses. My eyes flutter open long minutes later when, naked, he settles his weight on top of me.

My heart slams against my chest. Vincent freezes.

His fingers brush my jaw. “Della?”

I swallow. “I’m okay.” But I’m not sure that I am. My breathing isn’t steady.

His eyes scan my face, then he shifts onto his back as he settles me on top of him.

“How’s that?” he asks, his voice gruff.

The second his cock touches my pussy, a soft sound escapes me. My hands rest on his shoulder, his eyes locked on mine as I push down.

I clench around him. He’s thick. My nails dig into his shoulders, and I whimper, “Good. So good.”

“Take a little more,” he groans, grasping my hips and bringing me down more firmly on him. “You can do it.”

“Vincent,” I moan as I swallow another inch. My pussy tightens around him and he groans, breathing harder as I roll my hips.

“That’s it, baby. Take more. Don’t stop until I’m balls deep inside you.”

I ride him, slower than I want, harder than I need. The wet sound of our bodies working together captures my full attention.

“So damn wet for me.” His fingers cut into my hips, muscles taut in his neck as he lets me control the pace.

I’m full to bursting with him. So full. So utterly stretched.

His lips are flat, and his body coated with a fine perspiration.

He’s trembling, and that control, that fight to stay still, undoes me.

“Need you faster,” I whisper.

He drags me harder onto him and I moan, fingers fluttering over my clit, desperate to fall.

His hips jerk as his eyes lock on my fingers. “ Fuck . Again. Show me how you like it.”

As I work myself on his cock, I strum my fingers over my clit.

It creeps up on me. The roar of my orgasm racing toward me as I slap up and down on Vincent’s cock.

And as I start to fall, I lose my rhythm.

He takes over, repeating the rub and stroke that explodes my brain.

With a desperate moan, I explode, bucking against him, and he rears up, wrapping arms tight around me. His hips piston into me. His mouth finds mine, desperate, tongue diving as he jerks and spills deep within me.

We stay locked together. Not because I’m an omega and he’s an alpha who knots her.

He drags me close. Heart to heart. And he keeps me there as if he can’t bring himself to let me go.

As if there is nothing he wants more than to stay locked deep inside me.

“I love you,” I whisper as he drags the comforter over both of us and kisses my hair. “The L-word used to scare me until I found you.”

“Me too,” he quietly admits. “Not anymore.”

Suddenly, I smile.

“What is it?” he asks, noticing my amusement.

“Just thinking of Ms. Arkwright.”

He kisses my forehead. “I must have done something very wrong for you to be thinking of the head of school now.”

I laugh. “Not like that. She said alphas always want to do the mounting.” I consider it. “Just curious if I should go back to the school and tell her she has that bit of her omega class wrong.”

For one long second, he’s completely silent.

I’ve never seen him laugh like this before. His joy pours out of him. It's contagious, and I can’t help but laugh too.

“Della,” he says, wiping tears from his eyes.

“Yeah?”

He looks down at me, still smiling. “Never change.”